


The Unsaid: One of THOSE Days

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:17:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you have to retreat...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unsaid: One of THOSE Days

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Not In Your Wildest Dreams and then in Green Floating Weirdness #21 under the pen name JP Cads.

_"Gentlemen, there's only one thing to do… retreat."_

 

          Harrison Blackwood strode jauntily into the Cottage's basement, a relaxed smile on his handsome face.

          "Good morning," he announced to the two occupants already hard at work.

          Harrison's forward roll of good humor was abruptly halted when he noticed the warning flashing in Norton Drake's black eyes.  Too late he noticed the "Stay Away" sign up on Suzanne's window.

          "Oh, it is, is it?" came a challenging growl from the Bio-Lab.

          The computer hacker inched his wheelchair slightly further under his workstation, like a prairie dog who wanted to pull his hole in behind him.

          " _I_ didn't say it," he defended himself.

          Suzanne McCullough emerged from her Bio-Lab, her hands resting in fists on her hips.

          Harrison took an involuntary step back.  The microbiologist looked seven feet tall, wild around the eyes and… pissed.

          Harrison smiled thinly and shrugged in a gesture of appeasement.  "Is there a problem?"

          Before Norton could answer, Suzanne stalked out, stopping a half-step away from Blackwood's nose.  "Problem?  I'll tell you what the problem is…"

          Norton tapped his watch face.

          "…I'm trying to get some work done.  Important work, but I keep getting interrupted!"

          Harrison watched the hacker tap the calendar on his computer monitor, all the while being careful not to get caught by Suzanne.

          "Paul stops in, Norton's playing Bob Marley and now here you come!"

          _Time…_ the astrophysicist thought.  _Calendar… time… month…  Oh!_

          Harrison hands rose in a gesture of self defense.  "Suzanne, I can see you need some time alone," he said in his most self-realized, smooth-the-waters kind of way.

          She was not impressed.  "Yes!  I need _time_ to get my work done.  _Time_ when I'm not interrupted!  Unlike some people around here, I actually have _work_ to do!"

          Harrison smiled reasonably and took a long step back.  He slapped Norton's shoulder.  "Absolutely, and we should let you get to it, right now.  Right, Norton?"

          Drake nodded enthusiastically, easing Gertrude out from under the workstation and maneuvering behind Blackwood.  "Great idea, Doc.  Let's go see… what's in the kitchen."  He looked around the scientist's torso and smiled up at Suzanne.  "Can we get you something?"

          "Peace," she said.  "Peace and quiet and answers!"

          Harrison back-peddled as she began an aggressive forward march toward them.  Norton turned and rolled frantically to the elevator, slapping the button and sighing with relief when the door immediately whisked open.  He escaped inside, Blackwood following.

          The doors closed and Harrison slumped back against the wall, his eyes dropping closed.  "Why do I feel like we just barely escaped with our lives?"

          "Because we did, Doc.  I think she really does need some time alone."

          Harrison nodded in heartfelt agreement, then pressed the button for the first floor of the Cottage.  "Let's go see what's on TV in the living room, give Suzanne some space."

          "Sounds good to me."

          The two men exited the elevator feeling safe once more.  They chatted quietly until they reached the living room, only to find the television already on, an old western playing to the empty room.

          "Think the Colonel's off on a snack run?" Drake asked, heading for a spot near the small fire burning on the brick hearth.

          "Probably," Harrison said, scooping up the remote control unit and dropping into one of the wing-backed chairs.  He pointed the unit and punched the channel button until he found a suitable program, then settled back to watch.

          Several minutes later Debi McCullough entered the room carrying a cup of hot coca.  Her blue eyes narrowed.  "Where's my movie!" she demanded.

          Harrison jumped, sitting up and trying to look reasonable and mature under the girl's angry scrutiny.  "There wasn't anyone here, and—"

          "Nobody _ever_ notices me!  Nobody _ever_ tells me anything!  Nobody _ever_ lets me watch what _I_ want to watch!  It's _not_ fair!"

          Harrison stood, exchanging nervous glances with Norton.  The teen bore a striking resemblance to her mother, but her angry expression was accentuated by wisps of sleep-contorted blond hair that stood out at wild, twisted angles around her face.

          "I'm sorry," Harrison said before he could stop himself.

          "I _never_ get any time to myself!  I just wanted to watch a movie!"

          Blackwood pressed the channel button returning the western to the screen, then he and Norton beat a hasty retreat into the hallway, while Debi continued to fume over all the injustices inflicted by teenager-hood.

          Norton shook his head.  "Think it's her—?"

          "Isn't she too young for that?  Maybe it's something in the water."

          "She's older than you think, Harrison."

          "I wonder how the Colonel's feeling."

          The hacker's eyes widened.  "You sure you want to find out?"

          Blackwood shrugged in defeat.  "I don't know what else to do.  He's the warfare expert and we're under siege."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The Omegans stood at attention as their operational NCO, Norah Coleman, prowled through their ranks.  She was not pleased.

          "This is completely unacceptable, gentlemen."  She stopped in front of the squad's junior sergeant.  "Stavrakos, have you forgotten how to polish boots?"

          "No, ma'am!"

          "Then why does it look like you've been walking _on_ those instead of _in_ them?" she bellowed.

          "No excuse, ma'am!"

          "You're damned right there's no excuse!"  She took two steps back and glowered at the men.  "We're Army!  We're Delta Force!  We're Omega Squad, and you cocksuckers are going to start acting like it!  You're getting sloppy!  We're going to shape-up, clean-up and get back to some basic discipline.  Is that understood!"

          "Yes, ma'am!" the unit bellowed as one, rattling the windows.

          "Fall-out and _get busy!_ "

          "Yes, ma'am!"

          The soldiers stumbled over themselves in their rush to the door.  Once outside they each slunk off to clean, polish and hide.  Derriman watched the men go, shaking his head sadly.

          "Christ, Sarge, what's wrong with her?" Stavrakos asked softly, anxiously looking around to make sure Coleman hadn't overhear him.

          "Not sure, son," was the elder sergeant's reply.  "But we better go see if the Old Man was the reason.  If he wasn't, we've got us a real problem."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Derriman and Stavrakos reached Ironhorse's office door at the same time as Blackwood and Drake.

          "Trouble?" Harrison asked the soldiers.

          "Lady trouble," Derriman supplied.

          The two Project members nodded sagely.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Colonel Paul Ironhorse looked up from his latest Tony Hillerman novel, wondering why there were four people knocking on his door.  "Come," he called.

          The men slid surreptitiously into the office, the two sergeants taking up defensive positions just inside the rapidly closed door.

          Paul's black eyebrows rose in graceful arcs.  "What?"

          "Paul, Suzanne is acting. . ."  Harrison trailed off, looking for the right word.

          "Like the Wicked Witch of the West," Norton supplied. "But I think Debi's already been cast for the part."

          "Not unless she's replacing Norah," Stavrakos countered.

          Paul's head cocked slightly to the side.  "I take it the ladies are giving you some trouble, gentlemen?"

          "Ladies?" Harrison repeated.  "No, not ladies… harpies.  They're sick, or possessed, or—"

          "Did you ream Coleman?" Stavrakos asked.

          Ironhorse's eyes widened.  "No, not recently anyway."

          Norton rolled closer to the Colonel's desk.  "I think it's, uh, hormonal?  You know?"

          Ironhorse settled back and allowed the men to vent their recent encounters with the Project's representatives of the gentler sex.  When they were through he leaned forward and sighed heavily.

          "Gentlemen, there's only one thing to do… retreat."  He stood.  "We let them have some space and hope sanity returns when the hormone rush ends."

          Four heads bobbed in whole-hearted agreement.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Debi slid into the Bio-Lab on her stocking-clad feet.  "Mom, they're gone.  I heard the Colonel say they were going to go down and test the perimeter defenses at the beach.  They won't be back until dinnertime."

          Suzanne looked up from her slides and smiled.  "Yes!"  Reaching for the phone, she pressed the button for the Coach House.  Coleman answered.  "It's a go," Suzanne said.

          "All right!  I'll be right there," the soldier said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Suzanne stretched out on the couch in her baggy sweats and slipper-covered feet.  Debi lay on the floor, still dressed in flannel pajamas and fuzzy socks.  Coleman joined them, climbing into and finding just the right spot sprawled across the chair and ottoman.  She was also dressed in sweats and a torn tee-shirt that looked three sizes too big for her.

          Debi held the remote control and pressed the play button, starting the _Ladyhawk_ tape as Mrs. Pennyworth swept into the room, pushing a serving cart loaded with a plate of chocolate candy, a bowl full of barbecued potato chips, a selection of pastries, three coffee cups with steam curling around the rims, and one cup of coca.

          "Ohhhh, that looks marvelous," Suzanne sighed, accepting a cup of coffee from the housekeeper.

          Mrs. P delivered the cocoa to Coleman, handed Debi her coffee, then carried her own over to the second chair and sat down, kicking off her shoes and wiggling her toes.

          Suzanne lifted her cup for a toast.  "Here's to the successful conclusion of Operation PMS."

          "Hear, hear," Mrs. Pennyworth said.

          "Absolutely," Coleman agreed.

          Debi took a sip of her coffee.  "Yeah, this is cool, but I wish I didn't have to have a period once a month for the rest of my life.  It's not fair."

          The elderly housekeeper smiled.  "It won't last that long, dear.  I put Those days behind me many, many years ago.  It just feels like it will last forever at your age."

          The teen wrinkled her nose.  "It's still not fair.  Boys don't have to do this."

          Coleman giggled.  "If they did, the world would be a different place."  She giggled again.  "Tampons would be the universal symbol of masculine virility…"

          "Cramps a test of manly fortitude," Suzanne added, reaching for the chocolate.

          "PMS more rampant than bad pickup lines," Mrs. P added with a grin.  "Actually, I find it a rather fair exchange."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "What do you mean?" Norah asked.

          "Well, we bear the pain of cramps and childbirth, and men bear the pain of war.  It's all part of the balance of life and death."

          Suzanne smiled sadly and nodded.  "But look at us."

          "The times they are a'changing," Coleman said softly.

          "Yeah, you and mom are soldiers and you have periods."

          "No, we're all fighting for the same cause," Suzanne explained.  "And maybe when it's over we'll all, men and women alike, have a little more respect for human life."

          Debi shook her head and decided on a cheesecake danish.  "Here comes a good part," she said, settling back on the floor two feet from the television.

          "Mmm, I like the way that man straddles a horse," Coleman sighed.

          "Gawd, tell me about it," was Suzanne's husky reply.

          "I'm afraid I'll just have to hold out for Mr. Connery," Mrs. Pennyworth said.

          "I like— Never mind," Debi commented.

          The three women giggled.

          "There are some advantages to being a woman," Norah said wistfully.

          "Mmm-hmm," Suzanne agreed.


End file.
